Without Transgression
by Celli
Summary: Vaughn visits his father.


Feedback: Positive or negative both welcome. celli@fanfic101.com  
Category: Angst, challenge fic  
Rating: PG-13 for language and themes  
Spoilers: All of Season One.  
Summary: "What kind of justice did you get, in the end? What kind of truth does   
the CIA provide?"  
Archiving: Credit Dauphine and my site (www.fanfic101.com); otherwise   
just tell me so I can come visit.  
Disclaimer: Alias belongs to JJ Abrams, ABC, and various other people   
with lawyers. Sadly, this means Vaughn will never be mine. But he's nice enough   
to take me with him on his guilt trips.  
Notes: Thanks to Gail and Jen for betaing.  
  
For Alexandra.  
  
***  
  
Without Transgression  
by Celli Lane  
  
***  
  
"Justice is truth in action." --Benjamin Disraeli  
  
***  
  
Michael Vaughn walked slowly through the grass. It was the Memorial Day   
weekend, and soon Los Angeles National Cemetery would be filled with military   
widows and children. But he always came early, before the dew on the grass   
could evaporate, and he was alone with the stones and his thoughts. He passed   
the directory without even looking at it; he could find this particular grave by   
muscle memory.  
  
William Vaughn  
Captain   
US Army  
Vietnam  
May 25, 1944  
Aug 21, 1977  
  
He placed his flowers in the container by his father's name, then settled   
himself in front of the headstone, moving carefully to avoid jostling the sling   
on his right arm. He pulled a blue notebook out of his jacket pocket. He   
leafed carefully through the pages of coded scribbling in his father's   
handwriting, the handwriting Michael had inherited.  
  
~~~  
November 27, 1976  
  
Mikey turned eight today. Missed it again--London on Company business. It's   
always London, Paris, Milan with these people. Why can't I have a mission in   
Peoria? Houston? How about Memphis? I could call home while my family was   
awake for a change, maybe buy him an Elvis record for his birthday.  
  
Lost three good men. Nothing I could have done. Still. Selberg and I served   
in 'Nam together, transferred into the Company together. He has twin girls.   
They're six.  
  
Screw time zones. I'm calling my boy.  
~~~  
  
He traced his nickname with one finger. He shifted position slightly as the   
damp grass made itself felt through his slacks--  
  
--and his breath choked in his throat. Suddenly, he was back in Taipei, with   
water rushing past him and around him and into him, forcing its way past his   
eyelids and into his mouth. He thrashed his arms out, closed his fingers on the   
edge of--something, he couldn't see what--and screamed, sucking in even more   
water, as a piece of Rambaldi's machine crashed into his arm. He fought to keep   
his mouth closed, fought to get a grip with his unbroken arm, fought to stay   
alive--  
  
--Michael opened his eyes and stared blankly at the white stone in front of him.   
He was panting, the harsh breaths searing an already abused throat. He dropped   
his head to the cool stone and let the tears come.  
  
After a long time, he opened the diary again. He turned to a blank page towards   
the end of the notebook, pulled out a pen, and began carefully writing, pausing   
now and then to recall parts of the code.  
  
~~~  
May 25, 2002  
  
I was drowning, Dad. I could feel the water in my lungs. I knew I wouldn't   
make it. And I thought, shit--sorry, Dad--I don't want to die for my country.  
  
I still don't. I don't want to drown in Taipei, I don't want to be shot by a   
sleeper agent, I don't even want to have a heart attack over classified   
paperwork. I don't want--I'm sorry, I don't want to be you.  
  
On my eighth birthday, when you called in the middle of the night, I asked you   
why you didn't quit your job. You told me that justice is truth in action. I   
didn't know what you meant. I do now, but I still don't understand it. What   
kind of justice did you get, in the end? What kind of truth does the CIA   
provide?  
  
I believe in the cause if not the people sponsoring it. I will stay until SD-6   
is destroyed. Until my agents are safe. Until the woman who killed you is   
dead.  
  
And then I'm going to the Delorme vineyard in Fleury to live the rest of my   
life. My family will bury me in a small-town graveyard with no flag draped over   
my coffin. Any children I have will cry at my funeral.   
  
Happy birthday, Dad. I miss you every day. That's my truth in action.  
  
Mikey  
~~~  
  
He stared at the page for a long time, then wrote one line at the bottom--  
uncoded.  
  
~~~  
Sometimes the truth hurts.  
~~~  
  
"I am righteous, but God has taken away my justice. Should I lie concerning my   
right? My wound is incurable, though I am without transgression." --Job 34:5-6 


End file.
